Mary Winchester's Journal
by EstrellaQueAdmiro
Summary: AU - What if John had been killed in the fire of '83 instead of Mary? How would the Winchester brothers' lives differ? After losing John and almost losing Sam, Mary escapes Lawrence, Kansas with her two young sons and starts a new, and hopefully safe, life.
1. 2nd-12th November 1983

_2__nd__ November 1983._

Our little Sammy is six months old today! How has time gone by so fast? It seems only yesterday I was holding him in my arms for the first time. He was so small, smaller than Dean, I think, and just stared up at me without making a sound. He gave John and I a scare when he was born. He didn't cry. He was just looking around at this new world around him, it seems. Total opposite to Dean. I think the whole of Kansas knew he'd arrived.

Even better than when I held him for the first time was when Dean met his little brother for the first time. John and I had noticed how Dean had acted strangely while I was pregnant. There were days when he wouldn't go anywhere near me and days when he wouldn't leave me alone, and he acted out more often. But apparently it's completely normal. Dean feared being replaced or abandoned by the new baby on the way, but of course he wasn't. I love both my boys more than anything, and I'd never replace my Dean with anyone. Dean had stayed with our neighbours, Jane and Phil, while Sam was born, and they told us his little face lit up the moment John told him he had a little brother over the phone. As soon as we helped him hold Sam, he immediately planted a kiss on his head and said, "I love you, Sammy." Then looked a little confused as I pretty much burst into tears.

Sam is such a sweet baby, and so different to his brother. Dean was definitely louder and quite demanding, while Sam is the opposite. He's calm, more serious and is content to sit and watch the world go by with a thoughtful expression on his face. But that's not to say he never smiles, and he never fails to nestle close to John and I. He's grown so much in six months, I think he's going to be taller than his mommy by the time he's four. Sammy's starting to get his daddy's dark hair now, and his eyes have turned the same colour as my mom's. I just wish she was here to meet both her grandsons. I don't like how John and I are the only family they have. It shouldn't be that way for two young boys.

Dean made Sammy a little card with a drawing of all four of us. Sam has a little party hat on in it, and Dean asked if we could get Sam one to wear today. But within a minute he'd forgotten all about it and asked for some pie instead. I swear that boy is going to turn into a pie someday if he isn't careful.

As per Dean's request, Sam now has a party hat on. He looked a little confused but doesn't seem to mind, and gave us a handsome smile as I took a photo. John also just gave him his first solids! He seemed to enjoy it and gave his Daddy a huge grin with his two bottom teeth showing. He's such a sweetheart. And covered in baby food.

Dean asked to hold the half-birthday-boy, but I think he may now be regretting his decision. Sam's having a snooze on him now; I think all the attention wore him out, so he's stuck on the couch. I tried lifting Sam up but he cried and complained until I laid him back on Dean. Poor boy isn't sure whether he's enjoying his little brother's attachment to him or not.

Dean helped me tuck Sam in, making sure he was nice and cosy under his blankets. Sammy stared at us and smiled sleepily, and Dean ran to find his favourite storybook.

"Sammy wants a bedtime story," he said quietly, sitting on the floor beside Sam's crib. Both my boys watched with intent, and Sam's eyes began to droop, letting out a quiet yawn before falling asleep completely. I leaned to kiss his head, and Dean did the same.

"Will you sing the song, mommy?" Dean clambered onto my knee. I wrapped my arms around him and ran my hand through his hair, singing _Hey Jude_ for him and Sam. I let Sammy cling to my finger, and I stroked his fingers with my thumb while I gently rocked Dean in my arms. Both boys were asleep by the end of the song, and I carried Dean to bed.

_November 4__th__ 1983._

Everything's fallen apart so quickly. John is dead, Sam's in the ICU and Dean is scared out of his wits. It all happened so fast.

A few hours after John and I went to bed, I woke up to find myself alone in bed. I guessed John had gone to the bathroom, or was checking on the boys, so I decided to wait up for him. But then I heard a yell and Sammy crying. Not crying. He was _screaming_.

"Sammy!" I gasped, leaping out of bed in blind panic. He's never cried like that before. I went into the hall and was met with thick, dark smoke. Orange light was flickering from Sam's nursery.

"_Sammy!" _I'd shrieked in total horror, beginning to choke but fighting through the haze to get to my youngest son.

"Mary!" John yelled from the nursery. I could just make out his silhouette, but it seemed like flames were blocking the door, "Get out of here! I'll get the boys, now go!"

"Where's Dean?" I'd managed to choke out.

"I'll get him. Go!"

I desperately searched for Dean through the clouds of smoke. I couldn't just leave him. I called out to him, searched every room I could but I couldn't see him. I couldn't even hear him calling back, if he did.

I managed to stumble outside, gasping for air and falling on the grass. Then I had to wait. The roar of flames drowned out almost every other sound, but I could hear sirens coming closer. Jane and Phil from next door were outside and ran to me the moment I got out. They must have called 911.

"John...the boys!" I cried hysterically, but Jane firmly instructed me to calm down. Being a nurse, she was only looking out for my wellbeing, but I couldn't just "calm down" at the thought of my entire family being killed in there. I couldn't. No one was leaving the house; there was no sign of life. I wished desperately for _something_, sobbing into Jane as she pulled me close to her.

Phil ran towards the house as a small figure appeared in the doorway, stumbling over his own feet and coughing hard. Dean was wide-eyed and holding Sam tightly in his arms, thank god. Phil scooped them up and carried them away from the house. I pulled my boys into my arms, unable to stop myself from breaking down completely. I could barely form words.

"My babies," I managed to whisper, holding them both tight. I couldn't let them go.

"Daddy's still in there, Mommy! He wouldn't wake up!" Dean's voice was shaking, and he let out a sob, "Sammy's hurt."

In a panic I examined Sam's body for obvious injury. Until I realised he was limp in my arms. His breathing, usually soft quiet, was harsh and wheezing. I remember screaming, not even thinking about holding back so as not to scare Dean, though I should have. Jane took him from me straight away. I guess she realised nothing would be done with me panicking. My son's life could be at risk. I held Dean closer, and he buried his face in my shoulder and began to cry quietly into me.

Both the fire truck and the ambulance arrived at that moment, and Jane handed Sam to the paramedic. I was indecisive for too long. The ambulance was threatening to leave without me. I needed to know John was alright. I wanted to wait for him to be rescued. But at the same time I couldn't leave Sam in a strange place on his own. John would most likely end up in the hospital anyway. Just before the ambulance left, I got inside with Dean on my hip. He didn't even look up to see the fire truck. He loved them, but never saw a real one himself. Had it been a different situation he would have been so excited. I don't know what Dean saw, but he was freaked out. Too freaked out to be cheered up by a red truck. I don't think I've ever seen him so scared.

Sam had been put on oxygen and they insisted Dean and I were too, we'd all been exposed to the smoke. Dean didn't like it at all, crying and trying to pull the oxygen mask away, trying to hide in me again. After a few minutes they let us take them off, and he nestled into me again. Sam was taken away the moment the ambulance parked, and Dean and I were whisked away into a kid's waiting room with various toys and books. Dean didn't touch them.

Dean didn't talk for a while. He stayed on my knee, clinging on tight and staying silent. He didn't make a sound until we'd been there about half an hour.

"Is it my fault that Sammy's hurt?" he whispered, not looking at me.

"No, baby," I said shakily, "You saved his life. You're a superhero."

"I didn't save Daddy," Dean rubbed his eyes, and didn't answer me after that.

About an hour of waiting went by before a nurse came to us. Dean was curled up asleep on my knee by this point. She told me Sam was stable and we could go see him. He'd gone unconscious from the smoke entering his lungs, which had affected his breathing. They weren't yet sure if this could lead to problems later. He also had a large second degree burn on his leg that was being treated carefully. That must have been the reason for the screaming. They were keeping him in for a few days for observation, but they weren't going to discharge him until his burn healed up enough.

I cautiously entered Sam's room with Dean, finding him in a glass crib with an oxygen mask covering his nose and mouth. Pads were stuck on his chest and some kind of dressing covered a large portion of his leg. He looked so helpless and small that I broke down into tears, sitting beside my baby boy and stroking his hair. He didn't wake.

A cop knocked quietly and came into the room before I could answer. He apologised sincerely for disturbing me at such a time. I left Dean asleep in the chair and asked Sam's nurse to keep an eye on him as I stepped outside.

John was killed in the fire. They were only able to identify his body by his dog tags, his body was so burnt. I was advised to not go and see him, and for my strength I complied. I couldn't let myself see him in that state.

I managed to keep myself together, right up until I got back into Sam's room. The nurse read whatever my facial expression was and left us alone, reminding me to call for her if we needed her. I collapsed into the chair beside Dean and cried all over again. I had no home, no husband, no family to support me. I had two boys to look after with no one to turn to.

Dean woke up instantly and climbed onto my knee, hugging me tight despite his own visible fear.

"Don't cry, mommy," he whispered, "Sammy will be okay. Daddy will be here soon."

His optimism broke my heart. I had to tell him. In the gentlest way possible.

"Sweetheart," my voice shook, "Daddy...he's gone away."

"But where?" Dean looked at me in confusion.

"Daddy's gone...to the sky. He's watching over you right now."

"Like angels?"

"He's with the angels. He's one of them now. Telling them all how brave his big boy is. He's so proud of you, Dean. For being the best big brother Sammy could ever wish for. You saved his life, and Daddy's making sure all the other angels know you're a hero."

"Can I see him soon?" Dean's voice was painfully hopeful, resting his head on me.

"No...no sweetheart. Not yet. You can't go to see the angels just yet. But Daddy loves you and wants you to be a brave boy and watch out for Sammy for him," Dean seemed convinced, to my relief.

"I'll look after you and Sammy, Mommy. Promise. It'll all be okay."

He clambered off my knee and went over to his brother, looking back at me.

"When will Sammy wake up?" he asked, reaching his hand to Sam's.

"Soon. He just needs a lot of rest to get better first," I wiped away the fresh tears. I needed to stay strong for them.

_November 5__th__ 1983._

Sam woke up around 5pm yesterday. He was pretty out of it, probably from the pain meds he's on to ease the pain from his burn. He just stared at Dean and I for a good few minutes until he started to smile. Dean and I held his hands and stroked his hair and he seemed happy enough, even with the oxygen mask on. He fell asleep again pretty soon after the nurses allowed me to feed him. It felt so good to be able to hold him, to feel like I was finally doing something to _help_ him while sitting there and watching him being helped. I sang _Hey Jude_ to him and Dean , and it got them both to sleep.

I feel so bad for Dean. The hospital is no place for a kid – who doesn't need to be there – to be. I'd taken him to the playroom and the outdoor playroom while Sam was asleep but he just wanted to be back with his brother. So did I, but I just wanted Dean to be able to be a kid for a little bit. I've been offered a room in a hostel for Dean and I, and Sam once he's better, that I could have until our house is fixed. I personally didn't want to see that house again. I requested they kept the room for us until Sammy's better. I just hope they will. I can't leave Sammy on his own, and Dean gets so scared when we so much as leave his room. We're making do just so he wasn't on his own.

Investigation by the fire department found the fire began in Sam's nursery. Sam's crib to be precise. But they found no evidence of matches or anything that could have started it. They said Sam was lucky to be alive, but they had no explanation as to how the fire began. Neither did I. The only thing we had on in Sam's room was a small night light that wasn't anywhere near the crib, and wouldn't have blown anyway. A thought in the back of my mind hoped the cause wasn't what I feared, but I pushed it away for the sake of my sanity, though I need to be hyper-aware to keep the boys safe. Just in case.

The pain meds are wearing off and they haven't given Sam a new dose. He's in pain and pretty scared. He's fully awake now and aware of the oxygen mask on his face which he certainly isn't a fan of. He's tugged at it and wailed and it breaks my heart to see him like this. The burn on his leg isn't helping at all. I saw it properly as the nurse changed the dressing. It looks so painful. He's not even a year old, he shouldn't be experiencing this kind of pain so young.

The nurse let me hold him to calm him down, which thankfully worked. Sam nestled close instantly and quietened, and I was sure to steer clear from touching his leg. I just want to get him out of here.

Dean's stayed close to Sam and holds his hand most of the time. He's trying so hard to keep his little brother distracted. I don't want to think about what I'd do without Dean. He's my rock. But he's four years old, his peacekeeping and helpfulness is far too much responsibility for such a young boy. It's not fair on him. I'm trying to encourage him to go play, I've offered to take him to the library, the park, the shops, anywhere to take his mind off the situation for an hour or two, but he just wants to stay with Sam. He's just so fiercely protective of his family already.

Missouri Moseley came to the hospital to see how we were coping. I can't say I wasn't surprised and a little confused. Missouri is a psychic in town we knew in passing. She came to visit when both boys were born and occasionally asked how they were but nothing else. I tried to steer clear of her alleged psychic abilities. She watched Sam for a while and assured me he would be alright with some rest. He's a strong child, she told me, and he loves his family more than anything. I was unsure if a six-month-old was capable of such love, but it did put my mind at ease a little. Dean was hiding behind me, and Missouri knelt down to him and told him to keep on being brave. But then she turned to me. And my worst fears were confirmed.

The fire was no accident (but how could it be?), but it wasn't started by a person either. Missouri had visited the house at night, stood in Sam's nursery. She told me she sensed sulphur, she sensed energy. A demon started that fire. But why would it want Sam?

The Yellow Eyed Demon. 1973. Ten whole years ago. He told me he'd come into my home for something in ten years. But what did it want with my son? Did it settle for John instead?

Missouri had found Dean's teddy bear while at the house and gave it back to him. Hopefully he'll sleep better now. He thanked her shyly, then she left with a sympathetic smile.

We can't stay here. Not in Lawrence. Knowing John was killed by a demon. _The _demon. The demon that may come back for Sam later made up my mind. The moment Sam could leave the hospital, we were getting in the car and leaving town. I had no idea where to go, but anywhere that's not Lawrence seems good.

I just got brought a box of things saved from the fire. Most of our possessions downstairs were unharmed, but most of the upstairs was destroyed. Only a few objects rescued. All of Sam's room was ash and rubble. All his toys and clothes, gone. He's going to freak when he realises he doesn't have his little bear anymore. I'll have to find a similar one.

A few of Dean's toys were salvaged, mostly his toy cars. Most of his stuffed animals were burned or too thick with ash and rubble to be used again. A couple of his t-shirts were folded neatly in the box.

Some of my clothes joined Dean's, but the rest of the box was filled with photos from mine and John's room. Our wedding photo, newborn Dean, newborn Sam. All four of us together, Dean holding Sam. Although not all were saved, I was grateful for the ones we still had. Dean took his bear and gave it to Sam as he curled up to sleep without it. Sam was asleep, but clung to the teddy almost automatically. It baffled me how selfless my four year old could be. I was still going to buy a new teddy for Sam though.

_November 12__th__ 1983_

I'm so sorry, John. I never wanted this to happen to you. Maybe I should have told you about my upbringing and my past. We could have warded the house, protected all of us. Maybe this never would have happened if I'd told you the truth.

The boys are really starting to miss you. Sam doesn't really understand but he's definitely noticed you're not here. He looks around like he's looking for you, and a few times he's cried and nothing's been able to calm him down. I'm certain he's crying for you, John. He was so attached to you. He loves Dean and I too, of course he does, but from the moment he first smiled he always had a _special_ smile just for you. His face would light up when you came home from work, and he always wanted you when you weren't home. It just hurts that he won't even remember you by the time he learns to talk.

Dean will remember you and he's suffering. I told him you're up there in the sky, you're one of the angels now, and you're watching over him with the other angels. But every day he asks if you're coming to see us or whether we can come see you. Other than that he doesn't talk much, except to Sammy. He doesn't cry though. He's being so brave.

I've put your urn on the table beside the bed Dean and I sleep in. I'll bury you soon, once Sam's out of hospital. So you can finally be at rest. I guess this is the last time we'll be a family together, all four of us.

Sammy's doing better now. He's off the oxygen, which he's very glad about, and they're just keeping an eye on his burn. It's healing well but they think it'll leave a large scar. As long as he's alive and well, that's all that matters to me. They're keeping him in a few days to ensure it doesn't get infected, and then we can go. But we can't go home.

I've loaded up the car with everything from the house that was saved that we need. Any clothes we have, including some of Dean's old baby clothes in the basement that will have to do for Sammy for now. All our money is intact, the books for the boys' college funds, our savings, both our wallets. I should be able to manage for a month or two. Rent someplace until I can find a job, but even then I won't be able to buy anything for a while. I just can't go back to our house. Not only because I know it's the place you died. I can't risk the boys, John. That demon could come back for them, and staying here will only make it easier for it. We need to get out. I can't lose them too.

Sweet dreams, John. Make sure those angels look after you.

**I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm really excited about this fic as I have a ton of ideas for it! Sorry about the non-creative title but..well it does what it says on the tin!**

**Please do leave a review and follow/favourite if you like what you see! It really does motivate me to carry on the fic! Thanks :)**


	2. 16th-23rd November 1983

_16__th__ November 1983_

Sammy's leg is healing well and he's definitely a lot calmer. Just being in the hospital freaked him out and he wouldn't calm down unless he was in my arms. Dean reads him stories with my help – he's such a smart kid. He's way more advanced at reading than any other four year old, maybe because we encouraged him to do it from the moment he took interest in the words of his storybooks. He's going to love school, I can tell. But where he's going to go to school is another question.

Doctors and nurses still scare Sam. He cries when they examine him, and especially when they bathe or change him for me, which I try to prevent them doing. But Dean does such a good job of putting a smile back on Sam's face.

Dean's been having nightmares and has been waking up crying, calling out for me, John or Sam and taking a while to calm down once he wakes up. The fire has really shaken him up, and the doctors are going to get help for him. I still don't know exactly what he saw, but it hasn't done him any good and he desperately needs a good night's sleep. Especially now he's afraid of bedtime. No four year old should go through such fear.

_17__th__ November 1983_

Dean's seeing a kid shrink after he had a bad night, worse than usual. Sammy had been restless and so I'd left Dean on our little bed set up beside Sam's crib to walk him around the room. He nestled close and calmed down as I gently rocked him and sang to him, and I think Sammy was just glad to get away from that crib for a little bit. Just as Sam was beginning to drop off to sleep, Dean started screaming suddenly, loud screams that startled Sam and I and made my chest clench. Sam started crying all over again, but I kept hold of him while trying my best to calm my eldest down. He was screaming for all three of us, and narrowly missed hitting his brother as I tried to hold him with one arm. Despite Sam's distress, I found no other choice other than to put him in the safety of his crib to calm Dean first. It's not like I have John to help me out anymore.

Dean woke up as I lifted him onto my knee and held him close, rocking him gently in an attempt to sooth him. His screams turned into violent, almost hysterical sobs and he buried his face into my chest until he heard Sam's cries.

"Sammy!" he cried, trying to struggle free of my hold and get to his brother, "Sammy!"

He struggled and fought against me, reaching desperately for Sam, before eventually giving up and melting down completely into cries. I took Sam back, now able to at least hold them both at once, and Dean reached and took his hand instantly.

"It's okay, Sammy," Dean said between sobs, "I'll p-protect you."

I was struggling to prevent myself from also breaking down, but I had to stay strong for the boys. Sam's nurse and a doctor had heard the commotion and came to see what was happening, and that was when the doctor advised Dean saw someone. He'd had nightmares since the fire, but not one this bad. He hadn't spoken about the fire, nothing about what he saw. He'd kept it all inside and it wasn't doing him any good, poor boy.

I'm taking him for counselling in a few minutes, I just hope he cooperates.

Dean seemed to be okay with it. He gave me a smile when he got out, and told me the lady was very nice and he talked to her about things. Sam's nurse kept an eye on him in Sam's room while the counsellor asked to see me. She told me Dean told her what happened during the fire. He'd been hiding under his bed, scared from all the screams and the fire, and only came out when he'd heard me calling for him. Dean hadn't been able to find me, but found John, who had given him Sam and told him to get out of the house. He remembered his father suddenly screaming, which had frightened him, and to make things worse he witnessed John burning from his clothes setting alight. Dean said he'd been too scared to move, and John fell right by him. He'd told our son to take Sam and run outside as fast as he could before going unconscious, and Dean had run in fear the fire would get him and Sam too. Sam had been screaming too and Dean had been trying so hard to calm him down as he made his way outside, but suddenly he stopped like he suddenly fell asleep.

Dean told the counsellor that he kept remembering seeing John covered in fire and that it kept coming into his dreams, as well as dreams that Sam and I were burned too. The night dream that caused him to get so hysterical had been about him losing all three of us while he couldn't do anything but watch, but what stuck in his mind was the _screams_. The counsellor advised me that Dean needed further counselling and perhaps some kind of therapy to help him recover from such an experience. I thanked her for her help and went back to my boys, and praised Dean for being so brave. He's being so strong.

I don't know what to do. Dean needs this help but we can't stay here much longer. It's not going to be long before Sam can leave the hospital, and as soon as he can I want to get us out of Lawrence, out of Kansas if need be. I don't even know where we'd go, so I can't even ask to arrange it at another hospital. Maybe I should just point at a map with my eyes closed and go there…

_20__th__ November 1983_

Sam's last night at the hospital. He's been doing a lot better, his burn has healed up nicely but he'll need check-ups on it for a little while. I told them we were moving, but I wasn't yet sure where, and they just told me to get the nearest hospital to call here for verification. Hopefully this means Dean can get his therapy sessions too.

Dean's seen the shrink every day since his first session and he's definitely seeming brighter. Getting all his thoughts and worries off his chest must be such a weight from his shoulders. He tells me the nice lady lets him draw and talk about anything he likes. Today he talked to her about John and everything they did together, and yesterday he told her all about Sam and how he's the best little brother in the world. Just having someone to talk to is doing him so much good. He's also been learning relaxation techniques for if he gets scared or has another nightmare. I hate that my four year old already has to know such techniques, that my six-month old has already experienced so much pain and distressed. They're children, why have they already been exposed to such situations?

I let Sam sleep in with us tonight. It's his first night without some sort of monitor or wire attached to him, and every night he's refused to sleep for some period of time, knowing that Dean and I have been sharing a bed right by him. They're snuggled up together beside me right now. Dean's wrapped his arms around Sam's little body, as if desperate to keep him safe. Sam's nestled close to him, head rested on Dean's chest and fast asleep while Dean watches him. I just hope he actually sleeps tonight.

_21__st__ November 1983_

This is it. Sam has been discharged. Missouri watched the boys while I went back to the house for one last visit. Dean had looked like he would cry when I asked him if he wanted to come with me, and the hospital certainly weren't going to babysit. Sam was a bit clingy and didn't want me to go, making a fuss and reaching for me, but Dean promised he'd help look after him.

The house is too quiet. I waited to hear Dean's padding footsteps or Sam's cooing or John playing with the boys, only to be greeted by eerie silence. I hate it. This used to be home, this was the place we bought together, the house Sam was born in, both boys' first home. But now it was an empty shell of that place. Dark, miserable. There was nothing worth taking with us, nothing I'd not picked up already. And I daren't go upstairs. Just seeing the boarded up windows of Sam's nursery was enough to make me want to throw up, and seeing the blackened doorway and room only made things worse.

_22__nd__ November 1983_

After about seven hours driving, on and off, we've stopped in Sioux Falls, South Dakota. I stopped in Harrisburg, the town before, but none of the motels had space. I think the woman behind the counter at the last one we visited could sense my frustration and exhaustion, and was kind enough to call over to a motel in Sioux Falls to reserve a room for us. I couldn't thank her enough. It was nearing 11pm, Dean was half asleep and complaining from getting out the car so many times without a bed being in his sight, and Sam was restless and irritable from struggling to sleep in the car. Dean slept so easily in the car as a baby, the Impala's rumbling soothed him right to sleep. Sam on the other hand can't seem to stand it. Car journeys weren't exactly the easiest with him, but he may well have to get used to it. I don't know how long we'll stay here.

Sioux Falls was only around another twenty minutes from Harrisburg, and the motel were expecting us. I got the key without even having to state my name, and after a quick thank you I got both the boys into the room. Dean climbed into the double bed of his own accord and fell asleep there and then, and I resorted to leaving Sam in his car seat right by the bed for the time being. While the boys slept I salted the doors and windows – one thing I hadn't forgotten to take with me – and carefully went back to the car to bring some of our things inside.

I've barely slept. I've let Dean sleep in until he's ready to wake up. He went to bed so much later than usual and it didn't help that Sam kept waking in the night and crying, which got him a little freaked. I've fed Sam and need to take Dean out to get us both breakfast, when he's ready. I'm not exactly hungry anyway.

Sam's so happy today. He's giving me such beautiful smiles every time he looks at me and he's just cuddling close to me constantly. I envy him. He's so unaware of what's happening, he's just happy to be around Dean and I. What if he's forgotten John already? It hurts that he'll never remember his Daddy, not even what he looks like, without us telling him about him. Of course I will, I'll tell him all about how much of a hero John was. He can't grow up without knowing how amazing his father was, and neither can Dean. He'll remember John, of course he will, but those memories will still fade as he gets older. You've gone too soon, John.

I'm relieved to know Dean has his appetite back. Those few days of counselling have done wonders for him, he's himself again. That's not to say he doesn't need more. I just need to figure out what we're doing before I try and get him more help.

The moment we got into the diner Dean asked for a bacon sandwich and an egg and beans with a glass of milk. I'm aiming to be as careful with money as I can now, seeing as I haven't exactly planned what we're doing and where we're going, so I got it for us to share. He'd never eat all that anyway. His eyes are bigger than his stomach, and he proved it as soon as the meal came. His eyes widened and he quietly told me there was no way he could have all that to himself, so I was welcome to share. So polite.

I took the boys to a little playground around the corner from our motel. Sam's too little to even go on any of the baby stuff, but he enjoyed the fresh air and watched Dean from my knee. He's got so much clingier now, and I don't blame him. My poor baby hated that hospital so much and kept crying for me, so I guess now he's just afraid he'll be taken from me again. Dean didn't play much. He went on the slide a couple times and half-heartedly tried out the swing, but he eventually just came back to me and climbed onto my knee, giving Sam a hug instead. I told him to go play, but he just wanted to be with Sam. However much I love how close they are, I just wish Dean would let himself be a _kid_. But he didn't look interested in that playground in the slightest.

We went for a walk around the park and Dean sat himself on a bench by a small duck pond. He beckoned me to sit beside him, and we watched the ducks for a good hour. I just wish I had some bread or something so he could go feed them; he tried not to show it but he was watching another little boy enviously as he threw pieces of bread into the pond and squealed in delight as the ducks ate it up. Sam eventually fell asleep and Dean decided it was time to go home. I'm not sure if he was referring to Lawrence or just the motel room, but he didn't seem disappointed as we got inside.

_23__rd__ November 1983_

Dean's stopped talking so much. I think he's missing the counselling. He asked when he was going to visit the nice lady at the hospital again, and I was stumped for an answer. I settled with telling him that we were a bit too far away from seeing her as we were going away for a little while, but he can see one of her friends soon. He didn't appear overly satisfied but nodded and fell silent. He's barely spoken since. Maybe I should call Sioux Falls General and see if they can do anything. It's a nice place here and the motel isn't too expensive, so I think we can stay a little while. And Dean needs the help.

Called the hospital. They can fit Dean in this week but they're not sure about next week. I accepted anyway, and he'll be going in tomorrow for an hour. I just hope he likes this person as much as the woman in Lawrence. He seems pretty excited to be seeing someone else, and tells me he hopes he can do drawing again like with the other lady. He asked if Sammy can come with him too, in case he was frightened from the fire too, but I told him he was too little. It did make me wonder if Sam did remember anything, though. Maybe that's why he wakes more in the night.

I just feel so helpless. Dean had an out of the blue, raging tantrum and Sam hasn't stopped crying since from the noise and his brother's violence. He was close to hurting Sam, he was so angry, and it was scaring me to death. All I did was tell him to finish his dinner – I'd resorted to a McDonalds – and to stop bothering Sam, who was trying to sleep. He just snapped. Within seconds he was screaming and punching me, throwing the remainder of his food on the floor. Sam, already irritated from Dean trying to hold him and stroking his hair, then started crying too. I dread to think what the people in the rooms next door thought, but at the time I was focusing on calming my boys down.

Dean wouldn't tell me what was wrong, he just hit me and kicked me. Through his screams I was sure I heard him tell me to _burn_. Eventually he began to calm down, most likely exhausted from his outburst, and burst into tears. My little boy apologised over and over and could barely produce audible speech through his sobs. I just held him and Sam and rocked them both gently in my arms. Dean fell asleep, but Sam is just so over-tired that he's struggling to get to sleep. I'm struggling not to cry myself. My sons are suffering and there's nothing I can do. I hate to have taken them away from their home and Dean away from the shrink that he'd begun to trust and respond well to. What if others didn't compare? I wasn't sure if I could bring myself to return to Lawrence, but for him I may have to. I just wish I could take away all the damage from this fire. I wish I could take away the frightening memories and Sam's injuries and put it all on myself. Such young boys shouldn't be dealing with such stress and torment. If only I could stop it.

**Thanks for reading! Hope you're enjoying this fic. Hoping to weave in some more characters from the show! 3**

**Please leave a review, I love to hear your feedback :)**

**Thanks Laurie Archer, maxandkiz, flutterby cupcake and IcyFox West for reviewing the first chapter! :) And thank you to everyone who favourited and followed :)**


	3. 26th November - 4th December 1983

_26__th__ November 1983_

We're staying at a stranger's house. He saved my life, without him, my boys could have become orphans. Of all the places I could have stopped at, I had to stop at the town with a werewolf on the loose.

I'd only gone out for a minute. I'd re-salted everywhere, even putting a ring of salt around the bed and double locked the door. Sam had run out of diapers and I wanted to get some candy for Dean to try and cheer him up. I was so stupid, why didn't I just wait until the morning? I left Sam and Dean on their own, a four year old and a six month old, in a motel room. What kind of mom does that? They were asleep in the bed, Dean's arms wrapped around Sam after he insisted his brother slept in the bed, and the store was just down the street. I thought it would be alright.

As I left the store I heard low, menacing growls. I assumed, and hoped, it was just someone's dog, and that the dog was on a leash. But it wasn't until she came out of the shadows that my fears were realised. The girl was short, probably in her early twenties with blonde curls. Her fangs were already dripping in blood and her horrific eyes just stared at me, taking in every detail. With a snarl, she broke into a run, heading straight for me. In an instant, I ran in the opposite direction to the motel, down some twisting alleys in the hope I could find some quick escape. There was no way that I was even _risking_ her taking a liking to my sons, but I was stupidly risking myself. The panic and suddenness of the situation caused me to forget all my father had taught me at that moment. I had no silver on me, nothing to defend myself, and she sure could _run_. I was pretty sure I was never going to make it back to the motel alive.

But that's when he appeared. He shoved me behind him and shot the girl right in the heart. I couldn't help but feel bad for her. She probably didn't ask for this to happen to her, she probably had no memories of her transitions. She probably didn't want to be a monster.

"Are you alright?" he'd asked, his voice gruff but concerned, "She di'n't bite yer, did she?"

I shook my head, still reeling from the events. I thought of the boys, how I'd left them on their own. What if Dean had woken up and found me gone? He'd be freaking out, scaring Sam in the process. Without warning, I started crying uncontrollably.

"S'alright. Natural reaction, especially when ya think things like that don't exist. You're safe now," he said as softly as he could, "What's yer name?"

"M-Mary. Mary Winchester," I'd choked out, "I need to get back to my sons."

"I'm Bobby Singer. I'll take ya back to 'em," he started walking, gently propelling me with a hand on my back.

"I shouldn't have left them. I'm so stupid," I shook my head, wiping furiously at my eyes.

"How old are they?"

"Four and six months. Too young. Anything could have happened," I clenched my fists in anger at myself. We got back to the motel room and I unlocked the door to find both boys fast asleep.

"Coulda been worse," Bobby looked from me to them, "Yer alright now?"

I tried so hard to say yes, to put on a smile and lie. But I just couldn't. I broke down into tears and I told him everything. I wasn't sure why. He was still a stranger, after all. I told him about my upbringing, losing John. And he just listened before telling me his own story. He'd lost his wife to a demon. He'd killed her himself at the sheer panic of his wife being possessed. That's the thing about hunting. You're either born into it, or forced into it by death.

"You can come stay at my place, you and your boys, 'til ya work out where to go," Bobby said as Sam began to stir and get restless. In turn, this woke Dean, who sat up slowly and suddenly stared wide-eyed at the strange man in the room. I lifted Sammy into my arms and pulled Dean onto my knee.

"Dean. This is Bobby," I told him gently, "We're going to be staying with him a while."

I looked back at him, "If you're sure."

"Better you be safe with that…you know," he nodded respectfully at Dean but said nothing to him. Dean just nestled closer to me.

He's settled in alright. I was worried he'd hate the place and beg to leave. Dean likes looking at the cars in Bobby's yard and playing with his old Labrador, whose name I haven't worked out yet. He's starting to get better again. To my relief he liked the counsellor he met a few days ago, he said she was just like the lady back home, and she's managed to arrange a time for him to visit every week. She even gave him her home phone number in case he wanted to talk outside appointments. So far Dean hasn't yet.

Sam is definitely going back to his usual self, sleeping almost through the night and he's not so clingy anymore. Perhaps the consistency of the same place, a nice, quiet place, was relaxing to him. Bobby's house is a little run down and shabby around the edges, but I guess perhaps his wife was the one who was more interested in the upkeep of their home. Regardless, I feel safe here, the boys feel safe here. That's all that matters right now.

_27__th__ November 1983_

Took the boys to the zoo today. Bobby told me about one not far from here. We've been at his house for a few days now and we'd sat around doing nothing, mostly. Dean was getting bored and irritable.

Seeing Dean at the zoo today was almost like nothing had happened at all. I almost expected John to appear, everything seemed so _normal_. Dean was smiling and running around, even making the most of the playground for a good hour. Sammy watched with a huge smile on his face. Soon he'll be able to run around with his brother. It'll do both of them so much good.

We took Sam on the little baby swings, and I'm not sure I've ever seen him so excited. Nothing can beat the look of pure joy on my little boy's face, or the look of accomplishment on Dean's face as he helped to push his little brother. They're so close, and I couldn't have wished for more.

Per Dean's request, we spent a lot of the time looking at the lions. He told me he wants to be brave like one, and sat quietly by the glass just watching them sleep or roam around. I think we'll have to come back to visit them again. Other than lions, the boys loved all the animals, and Sam seemed especially fascinated by the penguins. Some parents paid for their kids to feed them. I only wish I could afford to do that.

Sam has taken a shine to Bobby. I can tell he's not really one who likes kids, but he makes an exception for the boys. He's let Sam sleep on him several times, he's sat him on his knee. His expression always looks like he'd really rather not be holding my son, but he does anyway to make Sam happy. I can't ask for more than that. Dean is still a little cautious around him, though. He's very quiet around Bobby, won't talk unless Bobby talks first. He hides behind me a lot if he's around. I don't really know why; Dean's not normally so shy. Perhaps after all that's happened, he just sticks with familiarity. Not that I blame him. He'll come around with time.

_December 1__st__ 1983_

December already. A month tomorrow since it happened, since I lost John. I don't know how I've made it this far without him by my side, but I had to stay strong for the boys. Who else would? I can't let Sam and Dean down. I'm all they have, besides each other.

Dean is doing so much better now but he's carrying on with the counselling. Just having a week off when the counsellor had to cancel last minute had taken its toll on him and he deteriorated just a little. I guess it's nice to have someone else to talk to. He's so considerate of me that he won't tell me what's wrong in case he bothers me, which of course he never could. He does talk to Sam a lot, I've heard him sitting by the basket Sam's having to sleep in right now, or just holding him in the living room when I've left the room for a second. He tells his brother how much he misses John, that he's worried about me and scared that he'll be on his own. I wish I could walk in and tell him not to worry, that I promise to protect him and his brother, but I know he talks in a hushed tone and when I'm not in the room for a reason. He'll tell me himself when he's ready. While Sam is a good listener; he stares at you curiously as you talk and appears to take in every single word, he doesn't understand. He can't empathise or sympathise with Dean or give him a response. The counsellor fills in that gap for him.

Guess I should start thinking about Christmas. Not that I have much money to get the amount of presents I'd want to get the boys. I'll have to make do with what I have. I guess we'll be staying here at Bobby's for Christmas. I don't want to be struggling to find a new place, I'd rather have the boys settled for this time of year. We can look afterwards, not that I know where. Sioux Falls is a nice place, but I miss Kansas. I'll think about it properly once the New Year is in. Dean will be five in just under two months, he's growing up so fast. Next thing I know he'll be eighteen and moving out. Wish time would slow down just a little.

_December 3__rd__ 1983_

Bobby got a call for a hunt and left early this morning. I heard him leave and he left a note for us. Up in Nebraska with someone called Bill, he left Bill's wife's phone number on the note. On our own again. He's been so welcoming and hasn't complained. A man I barely know has given up his spare room for a mother and two young boys, put his own food on the table for us. I couldn't be more grateful, though. A motel is no home for my boys.

Dean is busy drawing pictures while Sam is watching him with interest. Pictures for me, for Bobby, the counsellor, for Sam. I saw one labelled "for Daddy", but he hid that one pretty quick.

He drew a picture of his family for me. Me, John, him and Sam. John has little white angel wings and a yellow halo. Dean handed me the piece of paper and climbed up onto my knee, just hugging me. I kissed his head and held him close, stroking his hair as he stared at the floor.

"He's watching over you, sweetheart," I whispered, "He's so proud of you for being a brave boy and looking out for Sammy."

He didn't answer, instead he buried his head in my chest and stayed quiet, so I called up his counsellor, knowing it was her day off. Dean sat in the corner of the room talking to her quietly while I sat beside Sam on the floor and drew some pictures for him to keep him entertained. After a whole menagerie of different animal drawings, my little boy finally reached his chubby little arms up to me to be lifted. He's so affectionate. I'm pretty sure he'd be content with getting hugs all day if he had it his way.

Dean hit Sam. He's never done that before. I'd let Sam play with Dean's coloured pens on a blank piece of paper after he'd been staring at them for a little while. I was careful, of course. I didn't want to let Dean's pens get ruined, so I was watching Sam carefully in case he decided to be more rough with them.

"No, Sammy!" Dean whined when he got off the phone, "They're _mine!"_

"He's just playing, sweetheart. He's not going to keep them," I tried to reassure him, while Sam made wobbly lines on his piece of paper, giggling to himself. But then Sammy took interest in the pile of drawings nearby. Pen in hand, he crawled over to them to investigate.

"Mommy, make him stop!" Dean was getting so distressed. I wanted to stop Sam just to calm him down, but Sam wasn't doing any harm at all.

"Sammy just wants to look at your nice drawings, Dean. Why don't you tell him about them?"

"No! He's not allowed to look," Dean whimpered, taking out the drawing for Sam, "He can look at that one."

Sam crawled closer to the other pile regardless, patting the paper gently. Dean seemed to freak out completely. I don't think he meant to hurt Sammy, he just panicked. He pushed his brother out of the way and hit him across the face. Immediately I lifted Sam away from him, trying to calm him down. I had no choice but to send Dean to his room. I can hear him crying from here. I know he didn't mean it, but he can't hit his brother. Poor Sammy is so shaken up over it, he keeps getting unsettled and crying. He's starting to calm down, though. Reading to him and singing helps. He loves stories, and they're definitely making him feel better. I just hope Dean's alright.

Sammy's asleep now so I've talked to Dean. As soon as I got to his room, he ran at me with a huge hug, crying on me. He reached for Sam, asleep in my arms, and begged me to let him say sorry. Sam's allowed to use his special pens whenever he wants to. I just wish I could stop him getting so upset. He's a little boy, he's meant to be running around and making a mess. Not crying or sitting quietly.

_December 4__th__ 1983_

Dean gave me a drawing from him and Sam. He said its to make me feel better about losing Daddy, and insisted that Sam helped a lot with the colouring and the grass. It was a drawing of a photo I'd managed to rescue, when Sam was only two months old, John and I had taken the boys out to the park for a picnic. John had his arms around my waist and was looking dotingly at Sammy, Dean sat on his knee hugging him tight. Dean had put so much effort into drawing it. He'd been in the bedroom almost the whole day working on it, it seemed. Sam enjoyed watching and helping for sure. When I'd gone to check on them one time, Dean was showing his brother the photo and telling him about John.

"Daddy loves you, Sammy. Do you remember he liked giving you lots of cuddles? He gave me cuddles too. He's the best Daddy in the world, right?" Dean's voice was soft as Sam focused his attention on the image before looking away and picking up a coloured pen. Dean helped his little brother hold the pen and guided his hand to help him draw.

Through everything, all that's happened, I'm so grateful to have my boys. It hasn't been easy on them, but they've been so brave. I couldn't be prouder.

**Thanks for reading, let me know what you think!**

**Thanks to everyone who has reviewed and favourited and followed, much appreciated!**


End file.
